


Victims (Can't Existence In My World)

by BelFrost



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canonical Child Abuse, Friendship, Gen, Pre-Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 08:06:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11732991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelFrost/pseuds/BelFrost
Summary: He can see his dad, can see the belt and his face and the tight lips. Like he's not taking any pleasure from it, but it's something he has to do. An important lesson he has to teach. "I can't have you fail again Isaac."Isaac has a flashback in class to his extremely abusive childhood. It was only the once, and he's fine. His friends still need some convincing.





	1. The bad begining

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on Fanfiction.net under then Penname Grace.Bella. This is my work but has been moved to this platform to keep my work together.

Isaac never bothers to learn why Stiles has the whip in the first place.

It happens suddenly, too quickly for Isaac to decipher what's going on. One moment, he's sitting in History, or English or something, waiting for their teacher. Probably English, actually, and then the next thing he knows, he's back at home, his back tingling like the welts are rising again.

He remembers a crack. Not like in the wall, or the crack of knuckles. It's a full blown, air snapping crack. Isaac really isn't sure what happens. One second, he's doodling on the cover of his book and then his heart is in his throat and his lungs have forgotten their purpose. It's strange, he knows instantly what's happening, but can't stop it. The world looks dimmer, and it's all moving too fast or too slow and in all the wrong places.

He can see familiar, but fractured faces. He can see warm eyes and feel hot breath. He doesn't recognise any of it. Not the faces, or the scents, or their voices. It's like he's incarcerated in a glass cage. Everything is so disconnected, so out of reach. People can see him, but not the glass. They don't know anything is wrong, just keep talking and talking and Isaac just can't hear them. He can barely even see them. He's just trapped there, with no clue how to tell them, just struggling to get a breath and move.

He's just trapped.

He knows what is happening to him. It's a flashback. Only it's not. There is no flashing back. He can still see everybody, he still knows that he's in class, but there are images. They're blurred too. He can see his dad, can see the belt and his face and the tight lips. Like he's not taking any pleasure from it, but it's something he has to do. An important lesson he has to teach.

I can't have you fail again Isaac...

He knows it isn't actually happening, because he never saw his father's face when he did it. The voice echoing in his head makes him panic harder though. It's so clear and perfect that Isaac swears he just spoke in his ear, he can feel his dad's hot breath on his ear, can smell his coffee, black with two sugars and the sugar free chewing gum. He can feel his hot clammy hands on the back of his neck, holding him down, and one curled in his hair, one trapping his wrist.

He pulls back.

"P-please, d-d-don't!" He begs. His face is burning, but the hands are hotter. He can feel the blood rushing to the surface, the numb tingling feeling in his finger tips and the sheering pain on his back. His shoulders shake, and he hiccups. "I'm sorry!"

"Isaac!"

His whole body begins to tremble and he closes his eyes when he sees a flash of green. His throat hurts so much and he feels sick and can't stop shaking. He knows it's childish, but he thinks that if he closes his eyes, backs up and makes himself as small as possible, his dad won't see him. His dad will have pity on him this one time, will pick him up and make him hot chocolate and marshmallows like he used to.

He backs up and his dad grips his elbow. Isaac starts sobbing helplessly now. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please, don't, Dad. Please, dad, please. I-I'm sorry, I won't – please!" Isaac doesn't understand what he did wrong. He didn't mean to, and he was sorry, he was so, so sorry. He wants to do better, he wants to be better, he doesn't want his dad to be mad at him. He was sorry, can't his dad see that?

"Isaac, look at me! Isaac!"

He doesn't want to. He really, really doesn't want to, but knows he'd be furious if he doesn't. He opens his eyes and sobs at the anger on his dad's face. "I'm sorry."

"Isaac dude, just breath man."

Isaac doesn't understand. What does his dad mean?

"Isaac, sweetie, just breath, and try and calm down." It's a girls voice this time, and for the tiniest second, Isaac thinks it is his mother's voice, but banishes the thought.

"Isaac, it's me! It's Scott, you're safe."

Isaac knows that voice, but he can't remember where from.

Then it dawns on him that he's sitting on the floor in History or English, crying and the entire class are gawking at him.

Fuck his life.

The Coach is there, maybe as a substitute, but he probably doesn't know anything about English or History. He's trying to get everybody to back up. No one moves. Scott tries to get Isaac to answer him. Isaac doesn't say a word. Erica actually smacks the back of his head and Isaac swears he actually fucking growls at her. He still can't breathe, and it's freaking him out more than the tears. He hasn't really cried since Camden died, and before that was when his mum walked out.

This is probably an issue.

It takes him a while to get back into himself. It's almost like he's a ghost, hovering above everybody, watching. Just a spectator, but no association to any of them.

It's awkward when he drops back down into his body. They're all still staring at him. Stiles looks guilty and worried, Lydia is staring at him like he's psychotic, which he probably kind of is. The twins share a look that Isaac finds creepy because they are mirroring each other perfectly. Scott looks just as guilty and concerned as Stiles, probably more so, which Isaac thinks is odd, because he didn't do anything. Then again, Scott feels responsible for everything.

It's then that he realises Alison is petting his hair, shushing him and being all mothering. Isaac thinks this part is the weirdest, because she wasn't even mothering when they dated. "Err, what are you doing?" He thinks it's a fair enough question.

She shushes him again, she's rocking a little and then she mutters. "It's okay Isaac." She pulls back a little, and stares at him in the eyes. Isaac hates the concern in her eyes, but refuses the temptation to look away. He won't show he's scared, even though it's too late. He made a promise the day he accepted the bite, and he wants to keep to it as soldiery as possible.

"You okay Isaac?" Scott asks, and Isaac turns to look at him. It's easier staring into Scott's eyes than Alison. He doesn't feel any of the awkwardness.

"I'm fine," he finally says, but he can tell by the tension in everybody's shoulders that they don't believe him. His eyes flicker to Alison. "Can you let go?"

She blinks at him, and then whips her hands back, like she didn't realise she was embracing him. Glancing at her hands, she glimpsed into his own eyes before looking away again.

Everybody is still hovering around and fuck, he really can't deal with this. He pushes himself off the floor without a second thought and walks straight out of the room, actually having to push past Scott and Stiles.

He's on autopilot, he can feel his feet pounding against the ground, can see the blur of the lockers as he flies past. His heart is still thumping and his eyes are still burning, but he refuses to cry any more. The fire escape doesn't stand a chance, because as he pushes against it the hinges snap and it slams into the wall, cracking and denting the stone.

He's yelling at himself, telling his brain to snap out of it, to work, to associate, but it's being lax at best and no matter how loud he yells and screams it just won't work. It's making his chest burn, and if he wasn't so numb, he'd label it as frustration, and anger. Two minutes that feel like two seconds, he's under a shower, fully dressed and standing with his eyes closed.

They send Scott to talk to him, which shows just how much everybody relies on him, because they haven't really spoken since Isaac and Alison dated for those three months. Whatever the reason, Scott stands there for a few seconds, runs a hand through his hair and tries to figure out what to say. Isaac stays under the spray for a while longer and lets Scott suffer. He doesn't want to have this conversation, he doesn't even want to think about it right now. He doesn't want to deal with Scott ether, with his stupid big eyes and stupid puppy dog pleading.

Eventually, the water runs cold and Isaac shuts it off. It isn't because he's afraid he'll get ill, but he tries to avoid anything cold at all cost. It's a good thing werewolves run hot. After shutting off the water, he rests against the wall, remembering the breathing method Derek had taught him after his last panic attack. He's still ordering his brain to shut the hell up, but it's being ruthlessly disobedient today.

Scott doesn't say anything, even as he pushes past him to get to his locker. That doesn't bother Isaac anyway; he would have just ignored him. He strips out of his wet clothes and changes into his gym clothes. He has a spare set too; he learnt when he was fourteen to always bring an extra pair of clothes. He'll still have to explain his sodden boots to Derek, but whatever.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Scott finally speaks when Isaac is lacing up his sneakers. He's wondering if he can run himself into exhaustion tonight. He doubts it, he hardly ever becomes tired, not even after a fight and after the hype of adrenaline leaves him, he will still be floating on this incredible high. Right now, he feels mortal again, vulnerable in a way he promised himself he'd never have to feel again. At least with exhaustion he can collapse in bed without the fear of being plagued by a nightmare.

"Isaac!"

"What?" He snaps, then takes a second to compose himself.

Scott's shoulders sag, and Isaac feels a stab of guilt. It's not Scott's fault, and he really shouldn't be taking it out on him. But he's so angry right now. He needs to get out of here so he can beat it out on the track.

"It's just..." He sighs again. "You know you can talk to us, right? If you want to?"

"Do I look like I wanna talk?" Isaac replies back somewhat cockily, but is too frustrated with his stupid body betraying him to care. Isaac definitely doesn't want to talk about it, he doesn't even want to think about it. What he does want to do though, is find out why his body rebelled against him and his brain went into overdrive from a dumb crack of a stupid whip.

"It's just," Scott is kind of acting like an awkward turtle, and frankly, Isaac just doesn't care. "We're always here for you."

"Yeah, that's, uh, great Scott. Really, it is." Isaac scratches his nose, and there's a look of obvious surprise and relief on Scott's face until Isaac finishes his sentence. "Now, um, you can all be there for me, by never fucking mentioning this again."

Isaac stays long enough to see the disbelief on Scott's face before he's gone. He can't deal with this right now. He can't deal with any of it. He runs the track until his legs feel like lead and his lungs burn and he can't swallow without feeling like he's chocking down rock salt. It's the Coach who yells him off the track, and it's then he realises that darkness surrounds him and stars are scattered in the sky.

Coach gives him one of those looks, and there is a few awkward seconds where Isaac thinks the Coach is going to say something. Isaac spots his bag under the bench and realises that Scott must have dropped it by when he came by earlier, because his scent is clinging to it. He grabs it, changes into his spare clothes and bolts, leaving Coach to lock up. The school is dark too, and Isaac can smell the cleaning products the janitors used and it's all the more reason for him to hightail it out. The stuff gives him a killer headache, and he can already feel a stress one forming.

Derek, Peter and Cora are all there when he gets in. He curses himself at that, praying to a god he doesn't believe in that nobody has said anything to her. Because if they have then Cora would have told Derek and then Derek is bound to say something.

He's takes the stairs instead, because it will give him extra time, even if they are only on the second floor. He's trying his hardest not to hold his breath, because he swears that only happens in damn books and he's not going to be resorting to any clichés or in fact, anything that makes it seem like something is up.

He floats outside the door for a split second, before realising it's pointless, because one of them is probably close enough to the door to scent him anyway. Gritting his teeth, he steps through the door and surprise, surprise, all three of them are in the front room and all three of them turn to look at him.

Derek, of course, is the first one to make a move. He narrows his serial killer eyebrows. "You've been crying." He states, and Isaac frowns, because no fucking way can Derek smell that on him. "What is it? What happened?" He angles his body towards Isaac, and the last thing Isaac wants right now is a concerned fucking Derek.

"Nothing," he says, and tries to keep his speech level. Obviously it didn't work, or he's a horrible lair, because Cora scoffs and even Peter looks suspicious now.

"Isaac." He doesn't get it, is it really that difficult to say his name without it sounding like a damn warning?

"Derek, just, seriously," he sighs and shakes his head. How can he explain this? "It's nothing, okay," and then he shrugs, trying to dismiss the whole thing.

There is a few tense seconds before Peter pipes up, "What happen to your boots?"

And for the most part, normalcy returns.

It is hours later when he wakes up, the ugly orange glow of the street light is filtering through his blinds and he can hear a siren in the distance. His heart is drumming in his chest, hard, fast and painful. His throat feels like it's clogged up and like somebody tried shoving a toilet brush down it and his eyes are burning.

It's then that he realizes something heavy chucked over his middle and hot breath on his neck. His first instinct is to pull away, but when he hears a fierce growl in his ear and what he's now identified as an arm tighten around his waist he goes limp.

"Go back to sleep," Derek mumbles, and Isaac swears he's never heard Derek sound tired or not up to scratch before.

"What are you doing?" Isaac dares to ask, his voice dry and rough and comes out as a bit of a squeak. He feels his cheeks heat and he clears his throat self-consciously.

Derek doesn't respond, and Isaac is starting to wonder if he heard him when he replies; "You were talking in your sleep." Another pause. "I could hear you from across the hall."

Ah, there it is. There's his Alpha.

Isaac doesn't reply to that, and he just listens to the rhythmic beat of Derek's heart. He knows that Derek isn't going to sleep until he nods off first, which he doesn't mind. It's comforting in a way he hadn't felt in years, long before Camden died.

For a long time, he just lays there. Just lays there and thinks. He thinks about how stressed out his dad was after his mom left, and how everything went downhill after then. He knows people would just think his dad has always had this dark side in him, and yeah, maybe he had. He was damn good at hiding it then. He always hears in the papers about child abusers, monsters they label them, but it is far more complicated than that. All the reporters are interested in are the headlines.

His dad wasn't a monster, not in Isaac eyes. As a child, Isaac had always looked up to his father; he was strong, determined and reliable, somebody who demanded respect and deserved it. Isaac loved his dad, and he knew his dad loved him. He could still remember being cuddled up in his dads lap as his dad read to him, he had books of every genre, and it didn't matter if Isaac was too young at the time, if he asked his dad to read, he would. He could still remember his dads famous hot coco and marshmallows, the smell of his cologne and how his skin, no matter what, was always rough. Isaac remembers his first swimming lesson too, quivering on the edge of the pool and his dad gripping his hand, firm and encouraging, asserting Isaac in a confident voice, "There's nothing to be afraid of, Isaac."

And there hadn't. Isaac had never been afraid of his dad. There had never been a reason to, not then.

But that was when it was the four of them. When they were a happy family.

That was before his mom left.

He had been seven at the time, and Camden had been eleven. As he untwists and unravels memories he had purposely buried, he can pin-point it down to that one day, that simple catalyst. All it took was one more argument, one last goodbye and a few glasses of whisky. They all thought she would come back, Isaac can remember asking Camden if he could sleep with him, because he didn't like being near his dad when he was drinking. He remembers waking up early in the morning to his dads voice. He was on the phone, to their mom and Isaac could still recall the tremor, the uncertainty. It had scared him. His dad was the most confident man he knew. So when he walked in the hall way to see his dad whipping at silent tears, that was the first time he felt real fear.

Not fear for his father, or his safety, but his future. Mummy wasn't coming home and something was wrong with his dad. Nothing was how it was supposed to be, nobody would look him in the eye, not even Camden, and he wasn't afraid of anything. It had been fear of the unknown, of when he would see his mom again, when would his dad smile again, would his dad tuck him into bed now? Who would cook breakfast?

The questions had annoyed his dad, so he stopped asking. He still never hit them, never. He drank a lot more though, so much in fact, that the school threatened to fire him after he came in drunk one day. They went to live with their grandma after that, because their father couldn't cope. Camden was thirteen by then, and Isaac couldn't even talk to him without being a pain, so he stopped that too.

Their grandmother wasn't well though, and it wasn't long before they returned home. Everybody thought their dad was better, but he wasn't, he just got better at hiding it. Empty water bottles filled with Vodka at work and whisky at home. They stayed at their grandma's on the weekends, so it wasn't too bad.

When Isaac thought about it, it had slowly started then, their dad had never touched them, not even threatened to hit them before. When Camden got too cocky, his dad would yell and scream, tell Camden he was going to batter him if he didn't shut up. He started off slamming his hands on the table, kicking over chairs, a dent in the wall from his dads fist, and then it was a fist on Camden's jaw, and then Isaac's.

Isaac remembers the first time, he remembers the first time he hit Camden, how Camden had stormed out of the house, screaming he was going to run away and never come back, but he always did. Isaac's reaction had been different, Camden had always been the more confident, more outspoken and assertive. At school, he was popular, was the caption of the lacrosse team, had a gorgeous girlfriend and always had a friend to offer a couch or bed.

Isaac never had that luxury. Even before his dad had become violent, Isaac hadn't had many friends, and even then they weren't close. He preferred spending his time lost inside his Ghost Buster stories than playing scorer.

Up until Isaac had been bitten, he'd been invisible. Part of it was by choice, and then as he got older, it was more out of necessity than choice. It wasn't until he became twelve that this desperate feeling began to take over, this ache that would claw at his chest until he felt raw and exposed. He was lonely, he was old enough now to identify it, but it wasn't until he met Erica that he labelled it for what it was. He always had a feeling that he should make a friend, maybe try and get a girlfriend, but it always felt too late, like he'd been there too long and everybody already had their own little clicks and he had his. He was just the loner. He never so much as tried, he didn't even answer questions in class. People thought he was shy, maybe even retarded, but he just kept his head down in his books and ignored the whispers, ignored the looks and the stares and the questioning glances. It wasn't worth it. He wasn't worth it and he knew it, even they knew it.

He couldn't interact with anybody, because whenever he did, he was gripped with this fear, this tantalizing fear of what if? What if they found out? What if they knew? What if somebody found out that his dad used to... No, he can't, he can't go there again, not today. What if they found out and started treating him funny, like he was made of glass? Like he was fragile and needed to be coddled and that he was just a whimpering, terrified child.

But that wasn't him. Not at all. What happened to him didn't make him weak. He didn't feel vulnerable, he wasn't afraid any more, not of Derek, or Scott or even any adults. He wasn't scared; he didn't need to be wrapped up in cotton, or reassured that everything was okay.

People just didn't get it. They would hear the story, and assume they knew what had happened. That his dad was a monster and that was it, but it wasn't the case. His dad had been a dad, but he had lost himself somewhere and as Isaac turned into a teenager their relationship started to become strained as Isaac tried to become more independent.

It wasn't like that.

He wasn't traumatised.

He didn't need anybody's help.

So he really didn't understand what had happened today. That sudden jab of fear in his heart, the hot breath on his neck and the rank stench of coffee, that had made him want to gag. He had felt it so vividly, could feel the heat, the tingling, the stinging pain. He felt all of it.

He just couldn't understand why.

He hoped though, he prayed, that it wouldn't change things.

That everything would stay the same.

They had never treated him differently before.

None of them had treated him like he was vulnerable or weak because of what he went through. None of them brought it up, or tried to make him talk about it. They just accepted that that was his past, that he went through it and survived and that was it. They just let him deal with it in the way he wanted. They knew he was okay, and that if he needed to speak to someone, he could talk to them.

For years though, he had been alone, had nobody to talk to and he was used to that. He was used to bottling everything and used to not being okay. He was fine with that.

And he was still okay. Sure, a little shaken up, but okay.

He hadn't been truly scared since his dad died.

Today had just been one glitch in an otherwise perfect record.

So there is no reason for any of them to act differently towards him.

Isaac just lays there for hours, thinking and remembering. By some point, just as the sun starts peeking through his blinds and the street lights flick off, he falls asleep, Derek still curled around him.

Isaac's cold and alone when he wakes up, and when he opens his eyes, he winces and shuts them against the glare of the sun. The sun has to be high in the sky for it to have travelled fully across his room, meaning it must be near midday, so he's obvious slept through his alarm and Derek and Peter haven't bothered to wake him.

He can still smell the scent of his Alpha clinging to the sheets and enveloped around him like a comforting embrace. He breaths it in for a moment and finds it helps clear his head. Derek has a very distinct smell, like oak and the forest just after a storm. Fresh and clean and natural. He feels even worse than he did the night before, but the scent is like a subtle encouragement, a silent comfort, a message saying, 'I'm still here'. Isaac feels himself unwind a little and feels a appreciation towards Derek for it, even though there is no way he's going to say anything.

He takes a moment to debate between food and sleep, but his stomach wins and he crawls out of bed.

It's the aroma of pancakes that finally draw him into the kitchen, and he's surprised by the rather domestic scene he finds. Derek is standing at the cooker, spatula in hand, flipping the pancakes. He's wearing his usual stone-washed jeans and black top, but he's bare foot for once. His top seems tighter than normal, if that is even possible and Isaac can't help but admire the defined lines of his back.

Isaac sits down silently, grabbing the rolled up newspaper as he goes. He isn't really in the mood for any type of conversation, especially the one he knows is coming.

He's not even a quarter through the cross-word puzzle when Derek slides a plate in front of him and drops himself in his seat with the order, "Eat," on his tongue.

Isaac, of course, doesn't hesitate.

There are a few moments of silence before Derek says, "You going to tell me what happened?"

Isaac looks up through his lashes and swallowed a mouthful. "Do I have a choice?"

Derek raises an eyebrow for an answer. If Isaac wasn't feeling so terrible, he may have cracked a smile at that. Instead though, Isaac avoids eye contact and pokes at his pancakes with his fork. "It's nothing, really..."

"Obviously it wasn't." Is all Derek says.

Isaac sighs. "It's stupid, really. Stiles had this whip, and-"

"Stiles?"

Isaac nods and Derek seems to be considering this for a moment before signalling his Beta to continue.

"And he was messing around with it, and I kind of, freaked?" Isaac can feel his muscles coil up even as he says it, and that dry burning sensations in his throat again. He shifts uncomfortable in his chair.

"Freaked how? As in a panic attack?"

"Kind of?"

"What do you mean, 'kind of'? Isaac!" Derek growls, which really isn't helping, but Isaac reminds himself his aggression is his way of trying to help.

Isaac chews on his bottom lip, contemplating how to answer.

"It was sort of like a, a flashback," Isaac can feel his heart as it starts to beat faster and he wills it to slow. His blood rushes through is veins and heats up his skin. Just thinking about it is affecting his body, and that urgent feeling is back. The feeling that something has to be done, and soon or everything is going to go drastically wrong. Isaac knows that isn't the case, but no matter how much he pleads, his body and mind are at war with each other and Isaac is just the middle land where they drop all their bombs and send their troops. Isaac has no real defence against any of this.

And he hates that feeling. Hates feeling defenceless, powerless. Like he just has to stand there and take it, because running will just make it worse and laying back to let it happen is his best outcome.

He doesn't want that. He wants to be able to do something, to have some resemblance of control.

"Isaac," Derek says, and leans forward. "Its fine. Just, tell me what happened." His voice is calmer now, reassuring in a way that doesn't suit his alpha.

Isaac tries his best.


	2. The terrible end (Sort of)

Aiden won't look him in the eyes.

Lydia looks at him like he's grown an extra head.

Ethan is avoiding him more than usual.

Alison asks him how he feels, like all serious and shit.

Stiles is being overly friendly, even now they're friends, the conversation is bordering on uncomfortable.

Erica just stares at him, all calculating and observant until Isaac has to turn because it's frying his nerves.

Boyd acts like nothing happened, which Isaac's thankful for.

Danny acts like he's about to have a mental break down any second.

Cora doesn't talk to him, but frowns every time she sees him.

Scott follows him around like a puppy, looking at him all concerned and shit.

Isaac bails soon before lunch. He doesn't go home, but checks out The Hobbit from his local library, because he promised himself he'd reread it before he watched the movie. He grabs a blue charge from the corner shop, then sits on the hood of a burnt out car and spends his afternoon reading.

Scott texts him seventeen times and calls four. Isaac ignores all of them.

Cora gives him a suspicious look when he crawls through the door at six thirty, feeling drained of energy. He watches her cautiously, and thankfully she keeps her mouth shut.

If he's honest, he still feels like crap, but he isn't going to whine about it. Not this time. He learnt his lesson last time he felt comfortable enough to complain.

He can't sense Derek in the loft, but can scent Peter's distinct smell lingering around. He isn't good enough yet to work out where he is, but can detect enough to work out he is there somewhere.

His belly growls painfully, and Cora cocks a smirk and raises an eyebrow. Isaac just rolls his eyes and walks into the kitchen. Cora follows him.

The cupboards are virtually empty apart from a few tins of various soups and sauces, which is ridiculous seeing as they don't have anything to mix it with. Derek used the last of the pancake mix yesterday, and there isn't any milk in the fridge ether, just a half-eaten apple. There's a box of special K cereal bars that are Peter's and Isaac won't dare touch them.

Isaac sighs, longing for the full cupboards at the McCalls. Grabbing a tin of chicken soup, he reminds himself to make a groceries list and get some money off of Derek and Peter.

He stands at the cooker for a few minutes, letting the soup simmer. He can feel Cora's gaze, but ignores it. He doesn't know what she wants, and frankly, he isn't that interested.

Just as he pours the soup into a bowl, she says, "Stiles says you freaked in class the other day."

"Yeah, what about it?" Isaac bites back instantly. As he grabs a spoon and sits at the table he can see her amused expression. He doesn't know what Cora has against him, probably a stupid sibling issue or something. Isaac really isn't that concerned, as long as he stays away from her, and keeps out of her hair she shouldn't have a problem.

She shrugs and purses her lips, looking contemplative. "Nothing, was just curious."

Isaac makes a point to drop the bowl and spoon loudly on the table. "And I don't see why that is any of your business."

Cora leans back, that smirk still on her lips. "Somebody's stressy tonight."

Isaac just sighs, resigned. "What do you want, Cora?"

Cora shrugs and tucks a lose strand of hair behind her ear. She laces her fingers together, placing them on the table and looks up at Isaac through her lashes. Isaac is nearly thankful for the height different, but he doubts it makes a difference to her. "I'm just worried about you Isaac," she says in the most sickly sweet voice. "I mean," she shrugs again. "If you can't even handle poor old human Stiles, than what use are you going to be to us in a fight?" She puts on a sympathetic face, and Isaac has to curl his fingers because they are itching so damn much. "We're not going to be able to look after you Isaac."

"I don't need looking after," Isaac bites back in retaliation.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of Isaac," she still had that perfect sympathetic face. "You can't help it that you have some unresolved issues."

"Isaac?" Peter's voice calls. He appears in the door way, an inquisitive look etched on his face. "Your friend is in your bedroom. The funny one."

"Stiles?"

A nod. "He's been there for an hour or so now. It must be important." A shrug, and then he strolls over to the kitchen, opens the fridge and grimaces at the half eaten apple. He closes it and turns to finally look at Isaac. "It's probably something to do with the little episode he caused." Peter gives him a smile, void of any sincerity.

Isaac feels his chest tighten and frowns, but none the less, leaves his soup and the discontenting stares and smirks behind. His room is just down the hall, and is probably the most homely room in the house. All of his furniture is dark wood, a double bed in the centre, against the wall. He has a computer desk that Melissa was generous enough to let him keep. He has two bookcases, both full. He really should consider giving some to charity, but he doesn't know if he can bear to part with them.

Stiles is on his bed, sprawled out comfortably on his stomach, flicking through one of his first editions of Harry Potter. His head pops up, like a rabbits out of a burrow. "Hey Isaac buddy. Where have you been?"

"Out," Isaac replies, kicking his door shut. He marches over to his bed, grabs the book out of Stiles hands and slaps it shut.

Stiles scrambles up, protesting, "hey, that was rude! I was reading that."

"No," Isaac starts slowly. "What was rude, was you coming in my room, putting your dirty shoes on my bed, and bending the spine of my first edition. Which, by the way, you didn't even ask me if you could read it."

Stiles face remains natural, and he shrugs. "Peter told me to make myself at home."

"I'm glad to see you did," Isaac mutters, caressing the spine of his book. Seeing there was nothing he could do, he slips it back into its slot and shoots Stiles a dark look. "Why are you here?"

Stiles stares at the floor for a fraction of a second and then stares back up at Isaac. "It's just," he waves a hand, as if something in the air will help supply him with the right words. He takes a step closer to Isaac, and then leans back onto the balls of his feet. "Uh, the other day, was pretty intense man."

Isaac remains silent.

Stiles stands still for a moment, rubbing his hands against the rough denim and twitching his fingers. Isaac drops his bag down by his desk leg and collapses into the chair. He rummages through his bag, pulling out his books as Stiles stands there.

Finally, Stiles cracks and raises his hands, a sure sign he's about to ramble. "Look, dude, I'm sorry about freaking you out. I wasn't thinking and, yeah, I was an idiot bringing a whip into class anyway. But we're all worried about you. Especially Scott. You should have seem him , he didn't stop checking his phone. He looked like he was going to bolt more than once. But you don't have to avoid us, dude. That's the last thing we want. Even if you don't know it, we're here for you. We've been through too much not to, and-" Stiles was about to keep going when Isaac stood up.

"Stiles, breathe."

Stiles does.

When Isaac is sure he'll have a chance to speak, he explains, "Look, I don't want to make a big scene out of this. Alright? So, let's just drop it and pretend it never happened."

For a moment, Stiles looks like he's about to protest, but eventually, he nods. "Yeah, sure, we can do that."

Isaac feels the tension from his shoulders lift. He also nods. "Good."

There's another moment of silence, but of course Stiles can't cope with that. He points to the book shelf, his posture shifting again. "Is that actually a first edition?"

"Yeah, they all are."

The shorter teen lifts his head in awe, his eyes widening as he scrambles over to the shelf. "Oh, dude, awesome! How much did that cost?" He's looking at them like it's a treasure map and Isaac assumes he must be as big of a Harry Potter fan as Isaac is.

Isaac can only offer him a one-shoulder shrug. "I wouldn't know, they were all my dad's."

The excitement in Stiles dissipates in impeccable time. Isaac sighs and rolls his eyes, part of him hoping the topic of his dad isn't going to turn into a total taboo between them. "My dad wasn't always violent."

Stiles looks like he wants to say something, so Isaac asks. "What?"

The hyperactive boys shoulder's sag, and Isaac feels something in his chest tighten.

"Yeah, but dude, that doesn't really make it any better." Stiles shrugs, and he's still staring at the books, not looking the tall boy in the eyes. "He still hurt you, and it wasn't right."

Isaac goes quiet then, mulling over Stiles words.

School the next day is pretty normal. Some of them tip-toe around him, but they don't mention what happened, or that he bailed, and they certainly don't try asking how he feels.

Danny seems completely over it, and Isaac supposes with being Jackson's friend for years he's used to keeping a cool head and acting natural. He gives Isaac a copy of his study notes from where he ditched yesterday. Ethan is even there, though he stays mute.

Lydia just looks at him like he's insane instead of an alien, which is a pretty normal facial expression for her when dealing with him. Stiles is still friendly, but not awkwardly so, and Boyd keeps the same opinion throughout. Aidan asks him if he's planning on coming to lacrosse practice and actually treats him like a human being.

He talks to Alison for a bit in French, has a bit of a laugh and flirt with her like they used to. She doesn't treat him like he's made of glass, which is nice. It's nice and normal. Isaac starts to relax.

Expect by third, things start getting annoying again. Ethan, now alone, avoids him, because he doesn't have Danny as a shield any more. When he meets up with Alison again for Biology she actually fucking hugs him, which, yeah, they did date, but it's just awkward.

Then there's Scott.

Scott, who finds him between third and fourth. Scott, who stands awkwardly at his locker, talking about the new Star Trek movie that they talked about last week. Scott, who's watching Isaac for a sign. Any type of sign. Isaac hears a locker down the hall slam shut, and he just flinches. That's all he does. He can feel the burn again, but he's fine, because he can still breathe, he isn't shaking and he certainty isn't flashing back.

Isaac slams his own locker and walks to English.

See? He's fine?

It wasn't a problem.

His friends weren't so convinced.

It was a Friday, and they always meet up on Fridays. This week, they are at Scott's, and Isaac knows the McCalls house like the back of his hand. He helps Scott set up the microwave popcorn, because somehow, Scott always seems to burn it. Scott pours out the Pepsi and Fanta for everybody and Stiles pours some M&M in a bowl to share.

Alison is in the living room, setting up the seats and the DVD. They take it in the living room and all collapse on the sofa. "We should order some pizza," Isaac says, looking at the array of junk food spread out in front of him.

Scott nods and sinks further into the pillows.

"Order some potato wedges too," Stiles adds. "Oh, and see if you can get some of those hot chocolate cake things." He settles back down into the chair, then spins his upper body again. "And get a ham and pineapple one too!"

"Alright, Stiles," Isaac whispers, mobile already tucked between his shoulder and ear. The guy who answers recognises him, and Isaac adds the extras on top. Lydia waltzes in soon after, followed by the twins and Danny, then Erica and Boyd, who are both late. Isaac always makes sure to invite Derek, and Stiles always invites Cora, but neither ever shows.

Stiles is on the single seat, his legs dangling over the arm and Alison is cuddled up under a blanket on the big sofa, her bare feet tucked under her legs. Lydia and Aiden are seated beside her, Aiden's arm thrown behind Lydia, but neither of them are touching. Danny and Ethan have crashed on the floor, propped up by pillows, a blanket warming their legs. That leaves Isaac and Scott are on the double seater, which is their normal seat.

They all chip in to pay for the pizza, and it's half gone by the time they settle down enough to put the film in. Isaac doesn't remember whose turn it is to pick the movie, probably Stiles or Ethan, judging by the type. Isaac can't work out if it's meant to be an action or what.

Then there is a fight scene, which nobody is really paying attention to. Isaac and Scott are talking under their breath about the new Wolverine film reviews when there is an unmistakable sound of a whip cracking. Isaac flinches just a little, which really isn't a problem, but the low hum of chatter comes to an abrupt halt and everybody is peering at him from the corner of their eyes.

Isaac rolls his eyes. He's actually contemplating stabbing himself in the eye.

"Dude," Stiles says. Isaac blinks, wondering if he actually said that out loud. Looking around at all their wide eyed expressions, he must have.

"Seriously, you should like, talk to us," Aiden says, and Isaac tries not to glare, because even though they are a pack, Isaac still doesn't trust the twins. "If you open up, you'll feel better for it."

Isaac would feel better if he was buried in a damn hole. He's sure of that.

"Screw that," Isaac snaps. "It doesn't matter. I freaked, I don't even know why. So just step the hell off and leave it." The winces and pitiful looks he receives just spurns him on. "Yeah, stuff happened. I had a crappy childhood, it's not a damn secret. But I don't need to be handled with kid gloves. I'm not traumatized, I'm not scared or any of that shit." Wow, his mouth is really going today. "I don't even have any nightmares about it. So can't you all just drop it? Bringing it up or acting like I'm about to break isn't helping. It's just annoying."

"We just want to help." Alison makes him scoff.

"You know what would help? Lydia not treating me like I'm a freak, Ethan not avoiding me all the time. Alison, stop fucking mothering me, and for Erica to stop looking at me like I'm a damn insect under the scope. Acting all nice and cutesy when you can't stand to look me in the eye isn't helping. The only one of you who is helping is Danny."

That's all he can take. He gets out of there. He doesn't even grab his stuff. He doesn't need this shit. Fuck them if they think he's some poor little victim, fuck them if they think he needs shit from them, fuck them if they think he's going to break.

He doesn't go back to Derek's. He doesn't think he can deal with Cora and Peter without exploding at them. He walks around aimlessly for a while before sitting in the park. He watches a group of kids playing happy on the climbing frame, and a group of young mothers huddled together, giggling. He's trying to calm down so damn much, but it just isn't working. He's using the breathing method Derek taught him, but isn't having any luck. His body is just humming with so much pent up anger and frustration. He's contemplating going for a run in the woods once night falls. His wolf is howling and raging inside his chest, wanting to get free.

Isaac drops his hands into his head and tries to calm down.

Besides the frustration, he doesn't feel anything. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe there is something wrong with him, maybe part of it was from the abuse itself, or he had always had a screw loose. Because he isn't lonely or scared. He isn't a simpering little boy. He isn't feeling any of those post-tramitic panic things he should be.

Beyond that one day, that one panic attrack. None of it makes sense.

He smells Scott before he hears or sees him. Like Derek, Scott has a very distinct smell. It's the scent of burning wood and salt water with just the subtle hint of vanilla.

"We're just trying to help."

Isaac doesn't reply, but removes his hands, taking a deep breath.

He wants to calm down. He wants to be able to talk to Scott, but he isn't really in the right mind set. The park is quieter now, he can see the sun setting over the horizon, tainting the sky orange.

"We don't want you to push us away. You can talk to us Isaac."

Isaac doesn't say anything immediately, just stares at the horizon for a few minutes.

"There're a lot of things I don't tell you."

"I wish you would," Scott says softly, and it tugs at Isaac's heart strings. "I get that... That it's something you don't like talking about, but, if you need to." A shrug. "If anything ever happens, we are there for you."

Isaac opens his mouth to reply, but Scott cuts him off. "You can talk to us, man." His voice is soft again, and Isaac's throat tightens and his eyes burn.

He's still hunched over, and he tangles a hand in his hair. "I know."

"Then why are you mad at us?"

Isaac lets out a shaky breath. "Because you're treating me like there is something wrong. Because you're treating me like I'm fragile. You're treating me like there is something wrong, and I don't want that Scott." Isaac looks up and meets Scott's eyes. Isaac's own eyes are wet, and Isaac can clearly read the concern on the tanned boys face. "I just want you to all act natural. Treat me like you normally do. But no, just because I freaked, you all think the poor abused kid can't handle it and try wrapping me up in cotton wool like I can't handle myself." Isaac's crying now, and he's thankful that the people are abandoning the park.

"Fuck," is all Scott can think to say. "Fuck. Isaac, I am so sorry... I didn't... I never meant...Fuck. I'm sorry."

Isaac just nods and pushes his palm into his eyes, trying to stop crying. "It's why I never said anything." He swallows the lump in his throat. "Why I never talked about it. You're all treating me just like I was afraid you would."

"Isaac, I," Scott's obviously at a loss for words, and it isn't as comforting to Isaac as he hoped it'd be. "I just. I never wanted to force you to talk about it... You never seemed to want to."

"I do, sometimes." Isaac sniffs, and finally pulls his hands away. He's stopped crying, but his face is wet and his eyes red.

"So why didn't you?"

Isaac lets out a bark of laughter. "Because I'm fucked up in the head. I just, I was worried." He can see Scott's hands fidgeting, the shorter teen being unsure what to do with them. Isaac has an impulse to hold them, but instead balls his hands into fists and lets go again, breathing heavily.

Scott inches a bit closer. He's searching Isaac's face, and it's oddly comforting. "Worried about what, Isaac?"

The blond teenager looks at the floor and laughs again. It's strange and bitter and comes out wrong and Isaac starts crying again. "I was worried you would think I was a nut job... that there was something wrong with me."

There's a moment of silence, and Isaac feels that tightening in his chest again. Part of him wants to get up and run, but the other part is waiting for Scott to say something. For him to make it all better, like he always seems so capable of doing.

Scott finally makes a move, and grabs Isaac hand. "We can talk about it now. I mean, if you want to?"

Isaac wipes at his face with his free hand, and risk a glance at Scott. "Yes, I. No, I don't..." He takes a deep breath and lifts his head to look him fully in the face and nods. "Yes."

Scott squeezes his hand and offers a smile.

They spend the next few hours sitting in the part, talking. At some point, Isaac stops crying, but Scott starts. Isaac doesn't ask, just keeps talking, because he's afraid if he stops, he'll never start again. He has a hard time telling Scott everything, that niggling feeling of anxiety pinching his heart. He doesn't tell him everything, but says as much as he can brave himself to. He tells him about how it started with his mom leaving, and how he started on Camden. He tells him about how he used the whip at first, before learning Isaac was claustrophobic. Tells him about how he thought it was his fault, and if he had just been a better son, about how he was too scared to even makes friends because he was scared of how they would react.

Isaac finds it helps a little, to get it all off of his chest. To actually share it with someone. To share it with somebody he actually trusts and cares about, and knows they care about him too.

It doesn't fix anything. He's far from that every happening, but it does help.

When they get back to Scott's, Isaac's surprised they are all still there. The movie has ended, and they are all just sitting there, chatting. Nobody says anything when they come in, they all stare at him though. They sit on their usual chair and Isaac gets comfortable in the corner of the seat. Scott gives him another smile and pats his knee before asking everybody if they want to put on another DVD.

Everybody agrees and it all goes back to being normal.

Everything is normal on the Monday.

He meets Stiles in the hallway and he just smiles as Stiles jokes, slings his arm over his shoulder and they walk to History together.

He doesn't get the chance to talk to Alison at all, but she does give him this little smile and a nod. It's somewhat usual for them -they are still friends, and there is history and he's not sure either of them can just ignore it. He loved her once, and he's pretty sure she loved him -just a little maybe.

Danny and Ethan ask him if he wants to do a video game weekend with Scott and Stiles. He agrees, but only if they do it at Scott's house, because Derek complains about the noise and Peter always tries flirting with ether Danny or Stiles.

Stiles tells him later that it's at his house, but Isaac should come early because he missed the tutor session they had originally planned for his test in Chemistry.

Danny, after English, makes a joke that if Isaac didn't snap out of it, he would sing 'Fighter' and Isaac makes a joke, asking if he doesn't think that song is a bit girly for Danny. Then he winces, realising what he's said but Danny laughs, nudges his shoulder and walks off.

Scott shows up seconds later and asks him who's a fighter and Isaac figures the worst of it is over.


End file.
